(Their naval station where th’ Ajaces keep,
And where low walls confine the beating tides, 855
Whose humble barrier scarce the foe divides;
Where late in fight both foot and horse engaged,
And all the thunder of the battle raged),
There join’d, the whole Bœotian strength remains,
The proud Ionians with their sweeping trains, 860
Locrians and Phthians, and th’ Epeian force;
But, join’d, repel not Hector’s fiery course.
The flower of Athens, Stichius, Phidas led,
Bias and great Menestheus at their head.
Meges the strong th’ Epeian bands controll’d, 865
And Dracius prudent, and Amphion bold;
The Phthians Medon, famed for martial might,
And brave Podarces, active in the fight.
This drew from Phylacus his noble line,
Iphiclus’ son; and that, Oïleus, thine 870
(Young Ajax’ brother, by a stol’n embrace;
He dwelt far distant from his native place;
By his fierce stepdame from his father’s reign
Expell’d and exiled for her brother slain):
These rule the Phthians, and their arms employ, 875
Mix’d with Bœotians, on the shores of Troy.
Now side by side, with like unwearied care,
Each Ajax labour’d thro’ the field of war.
So when two lordly bulls, with equal toil,
Force the bright ploughshare thro’ the fallow soil, 880
Join’d to one yoke, the stubborn earth they tear,
And trace large furrows with the shining share:
O’er their huge limbs the foam descends in snow,
And streams of sweat down their sour foreheads flow.
A train of heroes follow’d thro’ the field, 885
Who bore by turns great Ajax’ seven-fold shield;
Whene’er he breathed, remissive of his might,
Tired with th’ incessant slaughters of the fight.
No foll’wing troops his brave associate grace;
In close engagement an unpractis’d race, 890
The Locrian squadrons nor the jav’lin wield,
Nor bear the helm, nor lift the moony shield;
But skill’d from far the flying shaft to wing,
Or whirl the sounding pebble from the sling;
Dext’rous with these they aim a certain wound, 895
Or fell the distant warrior to the ground.
Thus in the van, the Telamonian train,
Throng’d in bright arms, a pressing fight maintain;
Far in the rear the Locrian archers lie,
Whose stones and arrows intercept the sky: 900
The mingled tempest on the foes they pour;
Troy’s scatt’ring orders open to the shower.
Now had the Greeks eternal fame acquired,
And the gall’d Ilians to their walls retired;
But sage Polydamas, discreetly brave, 905
Address’d great Hector, and this counsel gave:
‘Tho’ great in all, thou seem’st averse to lend
Impartial audience to a faithful friend:
To Gods and men thy matchless worth is known,
And ev’ry art of glorious war thy own; 910
But in cool thought and counsel to excel,
How widely differs this from warring well!
Content with what the bounteous Gods have giv’n,
Seek not alone t’ engross the gifts of Heav’n.
To some the powers of bloody war belong, 915
To some, sweet music, and the charm of song;
To few, and wondrous few, has Jove assign’d
A wise, extensive, all-consid’ring mind;
Their guardians these the nations round confess,
And towns and empires for their safety bless. 920
If Heav’n have lodg’d this virtue in my breast,
Attend, O Hector, what I judge the best.
See, as thou mov’st, on dangers dangers spread,
And war’s whole fury burns around thy head:
Behold! distress’d within yon hostile wall, 925
How many Trojans yield, disperse, or fall!
What troops, out-number’d, scarce the war maintain!
And what brave heroes at the ships lie slain!
Here cease thy fury; and, the Chiefs and Kings
Convoked to council, weigh the sum of things. 930
Whether (the Gods succeeding our desires)
To yon tall ships to bear the Trojan fires;
Or quit the fleet, and pass unhurt away,
Contented with the conquest of the day.
I fear, I fear, lest Greece (not yet undone) 935
Pay the large debt of last revolving sun.
Achilles, great Achilles, yet remains
On yonder decks, and yet o’erlooks the plains!’
The counsel pleas’d; and Hector, with a bound,
Leap’d from his chariot on the trembling ground; 940
Swift as he leap’d, his clanging arms resound.
‘To guard this post’ (he cried) ‘thy art employ,
And here detain the scatter’d youth of Troy;
Where yonder heroes faint, I bend my way,
And hasten back to end the doubtful day.’ 945
This said, the tow’ring Chief prepares to go,
Shakes his white plumes that to the breezes flow,
And seems a moving mountain topp’d with snow.
Thro’ all his host inspiring force, he flies,
And bids anew the martial thunder rise. 950
To Panthus’ son, at Hector’s high command,
Haste the bold leaders of the Trojan band:
But round the battlements, and round the plain,
For many a Chief he look’d, but look’d in vain;
Deïphobus, nor Helenus the seer, 955
Nor Asius’ son, nor Asius’ self appear.
For these were pierc’d with many a ghastly wound,
Some cold in death, some groaning on the ground;
Some low in dust (a mournful object) lay,
High on the wall some breathed their souls away. 960
Far on the left, amidst the throng he found
(Cheering the troops, and dealing deaths around),
The graceful Paris: whom, with fury mov’d,
Opprobrious, thus th’ impatient Chief reprov’d:
‘Ill-fated Paris! slave to womankind, 965
As smooth of face as fraudulent of mind!
Where is Deïphobus, where Asius gone?
The godlike father, and th’ intrepid son?
The force of Helenus, dispensing fate,
And great Othryoneus, so fear’d of late? 970
Black fate hangs o’er thee from th’ avenging Gods,
Imperial Troy from her foundation nods;
Whelm’d in thy country’s ruins shalt thou fall,
And one devouring vengeance swallow all.’
When Paris thus: ‘My brother and my friend, 975
Thy warm impatience makes thy tongue offend.
In other battles I deserv’d thy blame,
Tho’ then not deedless, nor unknown to Fame:
But since you rampart by thy arms lay low,
I scatter’d slaughter from my fatal bow. 980
The Chiefs you seek on yonder shore lie slain;
Of all those heroes, two alone remain;
Deïphobus, and Helenus the seer:
Each now disabled by a hostile spear.
Go then, successful, where thy soul inspires; 985
This heart and hand shall second all thy fires:
What with this arm I can, prepare to know,
Till death for death be paid, and blow for blow.
But ‘t is not ours, with forces not our own
To combat; strength is of the Gods alone.’ 990
&nb
sp; These words the hero’s angry mind assuage:
Then fierce they mingle where the thickest rage.
Around Polydamas, distain’d with blood,
Cebrion, Phalces, stern Orthæus, stood;
Palmus, with Polypœtes the divine, 995
And two bold brothers of Hippotion’s line:
(Who reach’d fair Ilion, from Ascania far,
The former day; the next, engaged in war).
As when from gloomy clouds a whirlwind springs,
That bears Jove’s thunder on its dreadful wings, 1000
Wide o’er the blasted fields the tempest sweeps,
Then, gather’d, settles on the hoary deeps;
Th’ afflicted deeps tumultuous mix and roar;
The waves behind impel the waves before,
Wide-rolling, foaming high, and tumbling to the shore: 1005
Thus rank on rank the Chief battalions throng,
Chief urged on Chief, and man drove man along:
Far o’er the plains in dreadful order bright,
The brazen arms reflect a beamy light.
Full in the blazing van great Hector shined, 1010
Like Mars commission’d to confound mankind.
Before him flaming, his enormous shield,
Like the broad sun, illumin’d all the field;
His nodding helm emits a streamy ray;
His piercing eyes thro’ all the battle stray, 1015
And, while beneath his targe he flash’d along,
Shot terrors round, that wither’d ev’n the strong.
Thus stalk’d he dreadful; death was in his look;
Whole nations fear’d; but not an Argive shook.
The tow’ring Ajax, with an ample stride, 1020
Advanc’d the first, and thus the Chief defied:
‘Hector! come on, thy empty threats forbear:
‘T is not thy arm, ‘t is thund’ring Jove, we fear:
The skill of war to us not idly giv’n,
Lo! Greece is humbled, not by Troy, but Heav’n. 1025
Vain are the hopes that haughty mind imparts
To force our fleet: the Greeks have hands and hearts.
Long ere in flames our lofty navy fall,
Your boasted city, and your god-built wall,
Shall sink beneath us, smoking on the ground; 1030
And spread a long unmeasured ruin round.
The time shall come, when, chased along the plain,
Ev’n thou shalt call on Jove, and call in vain;
Ev’n thou shalt wish, to aid thy desp’rate course,
The wings of falcons for thy flying horse; 1035
Shalt run, forgetful of a warrior’s fame,
While clouds of friendly dust conceal thy shame.’
As thus he spoke, behold, in open view,
On sounding wings a dexter eagle flew.
To Jove’s glad omen all the Grecians rise, 1040
And hail, with shouts, his progress thro’ the skies.
Far-echoing clamours bound from side to side;
They ceas’d; and thus the Chief of Troy replied:
‘From whence this menace, this insulting strain?
Enormous boaster! doom’d to vaunt in vain. 1045
So may the Gods on Hector life bestow
(Not that short life which mortals lead below,
But such as those of Jove’s high lineage born,
The Blue-eyed Maid, or He that gilds the morn),
As this decisive day shall end the fame 1050
Of Greece, and Argos be no more a name.
And thou, imperious! if thy madness wait
The lance of Hector, thou shalt meet thy fate:
That giant-corpse, extended on the shore,
Shall largely feast the fowls with fat and gore.’ 1055
He said, and like a lion stalk’d along:
With shouts incessant earth and ocean rung,
Sent from his foll’wing host. The Grecian train
With answering thunders fill’d the echoing plain;
A shout that tore Heav’n’s concave, and above 1060
Shook the fix’d splendours of the throne of Jove.
Iliad Book XIV. Juno Deceives Jupiter by the Girdle of Venus
THE ARGUMENT
Nestor, sitting at the table with Machaon, is alarmed with the increasing clamour of the war, and hastens to Agamemnon: on his way he meets that Prince with Diomed and Ulysses, whom he informs of the extremity of the danger. Agamemnon proposes to make their escape by night, which Ulysses withstands; to which Diomed adds his advice, that, wounded as they were, they should go forth and encourage the army with their presence; which advice is pursued. Juno seeing the partiality of Jupiter to the Trojans, forms a design to overreach him; she sets off her charms with the utmost care, and (the more surely to enchant him) obtains the magic girdle of Venus. She then applies herself to the God of Sleep, and with some difficulty persuades him to seal the eyes of Jupiter; this done, she goes to Mount Ida, where the God, at first sight, is ravished with her beauty, sinks in her embraces, and is laid asleep. Neptune takes advantage of his slumber, and succours the Greeks; Hector is struck to the ground with a prodigious stone by Ajax, and carried off from the battle: several actions succeed; till the Trojans, much distressed, are obliged to give way; the lesser Ajax signalizes himself in a particular manner.
BUT nor the genial feast, nor flowing bowl,
Could charm the cares of Nestor’s watchful soul;
His startled ears th’ increasing cries attend;
Then thus, impatient, to his wounded friend:
‘What new alarms, divine Machaon, say, 5
What mix’d events attend this mighty day?
Hark! how the shouts divide, and how they meet,
And now come full, and thicken to the fleet!
Here, with the cordial draught dispel thy care,
Let Hecamede the strength’ning bath prepare, 10
Refresh thy wound, and cleanse the clotted gore,
While I th’ adventures of the day explore.’
He said: and, seizing Thrasymedes’ shield
(His valiant offspring), hasten’d to the field
(That day, the son his father’s buckler bore); 15
Then snatch’d a lance, and issued from the door.
Soon as the prospect open’d to his view,
His wounded eyes the scene of sorrow knew;
Dire disarray! the tumult of the fight,
The wall in ruins, and the Greeks in flight. 20
As when old Ocean’s silent surface sleeps,
The waves just heaving on the purple deeps;
While yet th’ expected tempest hangs on high,
Weighs down the cloud, and blackens in the sky,
The mass of waters will no wind obey; 25
Jove sends one gust, and bids them roll away.
While wav’ring counsels thus his mind engage,
Fluctuates in doubtful thought the Pylian sage;
To join the host, or to the Gen’ral haste;
Debating long, he fixes on the last: 30
Yet, as he moves, the fight his bosom warms;
The field rings dreadful with the clang of arms;
The gleaming falchions flash, the jav’lins fly;
Blows echo blows, and all or kill or die.
Him, in his march, the wounded Princes meet, 35
By tardy steps ascending from the fleet;
The King of Men, Ulysses the divine,
And who to Tydeus owes his noble line.
(Their ships at distance from the battle stand,
In lines advanc’d along the shelving strand; 40
Whose bay the fleet unable to contain
At length, beside the margin of the main,
Rank above rank, the crowded ships they moor:
Who landed first, lay highest on the shore.)
Supported on their spears they took their way, 45
Unfit to fight, but anxious
for the day.
Nestor’s approach alarm’d each Grecian breast,
Whom thus the Gen’ral of the host address’d:
‘O grace and glory of th’ Achaian name!
What drives thee, Nestor, from the Field of Fame? 50
Shall then proud Hector see his boast fulfill’d,
Our fleets in ashes, and our heroes kill’d?
Such was his threat, ah! now too soon made good,
On many a Grecian bosom writ in blood.
Is every heart inflamed with equal rage 55
Against your King, nor will one Chief engage?
And have I liv’d to see with mournful eyes
In ev’ry Greek a new Achilles rise?’
Gerenian Nestor then: ‘So Fate has will’d;
And all confirming time has Fate fulfill’d, 60
Not he that thunders from th’ aërial bower.
Not Jove himself, upon the past has power.
The wall, our late inviolable bound,
And best defence, lies smoking on the ground:
Ev’n to the ships their conquering arms extend, 65
And groans of slaughter’d Greeks to Heav’n ascend.
On speedy measures then employ your thought;
In such distress if counsel profit aught;
Arms cannot much: tho’ Mars our souls incite,
These gaping wounds withhold us from the fight.’ 70
To him the Monarch: ‘That our army bends,
That Troy triumphant our high fleet ascends,
And that the rampart, late our surest trust,
And best defence, lies smoking in the dust:
All this, from Jove’s afflictive hand we bear, 75
Who, far from Argos, wills our ruin here,
Past are the days when happier Greece was bless’d,
And all his favour, all his aid, confess’d;
Now Heav’n, averse, our hands from battle ties,
And lifts the Trojan glory to the skies. 80
Cease we at length to waste our blood in vain,
And launch what ships lie nearest to the main;
Leave these at anchor till the coming night;
Then, if impetuous Troy forbear the fight,
Bring all to sea, and hoist each sail for flight. 85
Better from evils, well foreseen, to run,
Than perish in the danger we may shun.’
Thus he. The sage Ulysses thus replies,
While anger flash’d from his disdainful eyes:
‘What shameful words (unkingly as thou art) 90
Fall from that trembling tongue and tim’rous heart!
Oh were thy sway the curse of meaner powers,
And thou the shame of any host but ours!
A host, by Jove endued with martial might,
And taught to conquer, or to fall in fight: 95
Alexander Pope - Delphi Poets Series Page 95